


Turtle rock tryst

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [71]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Desert Island, F/F, Fluff, mermaid abaddon, witch rowena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5183303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rowena hummed and picked through a waterlogged box that might have been lovely at one point with gems inset, a broken cup, a small dagger, a handful of coins. Not much of practical use, but she could carve the gems out of the box and weave coconut rope around the coins to make lovely things to adorn herself with. She might be a ship wrecked witch living on a deserted island, but she could still appreciate luxury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turtle rock tryst

When the moon was brightly perched at it’s mid way point in the clear sky, Rowena delicately made her way down the South side beach that tumbled with giant boulders disappearing into the sea. There was a particular formation that reminded her of a humongous turtle, and she carefully hopped over the rocks barefoot to sit on the largest boulder that made up the turtle’s back. 

Her long black dress that had once been delicate and lovely was growing thinner by the day, ragged around the edges. But she made up for that by weaving shells and pearls into the hem, that tinkled like fine jewelry. Settling her skirts around her, one foot dangling over the edge of the boulder into the warm gently lapping water, she set her little sling pack down and started unpacking. 

There was fine bone china with blue roses painted around the edge, most of it cracked and chipped, but Rowena had salvaged a few plates and nice cups. She had a carafe that was missing it’s handle and lid, but could still hold the coconut milk she gathered. There was a bowl of diced fruit from the island, mangos and coconuts, which she arranged with everything else on the rock. 

She didn’t have long to wait before there was a ripple in the waters and a quite splash. A head of sleek wet hair that was dark in the moonlight – and fierce red in the sun light, much like Rowena’s – surfaced from the water. Sharp jagged teeth smiled at her, and strong pale arms gripped the ridges of the boulder to heave up. 

With a wet smack, Abaddon settled on the boulder next to Rowena, coiling her shimmering copper tail up underneath her. Her bare chest and arms were smattered with faded scars, and there was a dark bruise dappling up her side. Rowena had asked how old the mermaid was, once, but they didn’t mark time the same way. She’d never given much thoughts to the sailors tales of fierce women in the deep eager to snatch them down, as men were prone to over exaggeration. But apparently, as Rowena had learned in Abaddon’s company the past few months, mermaids were vicious predators. 

Smiling sweetly, Rowena asked, “Hello, dear. The ocean treating you well?”

“As well as ever,” Abaddon hefted a woven kelp bag towards Rowena, and plucked up the bowl of fruit instead. “I found a new wreck. The hull smashed to splinters. Looks like they got caught on the rocks, but I didn’t find bodies. Might have been the sirens. They don’t much care about loot they can’t eat.”

Rowena hummed and plucked through the mostly shattered, rusted, useless things in the sack. But, there was always something useful in what Abaddon brought her. Be it something lovely for decoration or distraction, or something useful to use in tending the gardens or constructing the shelter Rowena had started building. 

When she had washed up on this forsaken, empty island after a storm capsized the boat carrying her away from certain persecution as a witch, Rowena had despaired her ill luck. None of the other sailors had washed up on the same shore as her, and none came for her. She cursed the heavens and gathered what ingredients she could to cast spells to scry and attempt to send out messages. It wasn’t until she caught a curious mermaid watching her dancing naked under the full moon one night seeking inspiration that Rowena found living on a deserted island wasn’t so bad after all. 

Abaddon was messy though. Rowena frowned at her ill manners, but had give up any attempts to correct the etiquette of the savage mermaid. She had a sweet tooth for the fruits on the island, and was more than eager to bring Rowena fish, plants from the deep, loot from wrecked ships, as a means of barter. 

What neither of them had quite expected at first, was enjoying the company. 

“Tch, sirens. Using their treachery to lure sailors to their death on the rocks. Not nearly so brave and fearsome as the mermaids, are they.”

Abaddon scoffed and beat her tail against the rock. “Sirens are weak, they make better prey than predator.”

Rowena hummed and picked through a waterlogged box that might have been lovely at one point with gems inset, a broken cup, a small dagger, a handful of coins. Not much of practical use, but she could carve the gems out of the box and weave coconut rope around the coins to make lovely things to adorn herself with. She might be a ship wrecked witch living on a deserted island, but she could still appreciate luxury. 

Pulling a small tin of salve she’d made from her own sack, Rowena scooted closer to Abaddon. 

“You look as though you’ve been in a skirmish, dear, nothing too troublesome I hope?”

Abaddon preened under the attention when Rowena brushed her fingers down the cool smooth skin of her back, following the trail of bruises and finding a large ring of teeth mark that had been hard to see in the dark. 

“Just a shark. Oh, I do have some extra meat stored in my cave if you want it?”

“A shark? I’ll pass on the meat, thank you, but could you bring me it’s heart, a few teeth, and the fin if you still have it?”

“I saved everything. You always want the strangest parts. What will you do with it’s teeth?”

“Grind them down for a potion. Here now, this will sting.”

Rubbing a little salve over the cuts, Abaddon hissed but remained still. At first, she had refused any of Rowena’s attempts to help with the small injuries she always seemed to have. But she’d slowly grown accustomed to Rowena’s fussing, and was much more receptive to touch. 

Honestly, the one thing that suffered the most here was Rowena’s ambition. It was almost nice having the whole island to herself, not having to worry about being persecuted, free to practice in the open whatever deviances she wanted. But a woman had certain needs for companionship. Fortunately, Abaddon enjoyed her company, and valued the weapons and potions she could craft. 

So most nights found them in each other’s company on the turtle rock at the witching hour, to exchange what goods they had to offer or simply whittle away the time with idle chatter. It was a pleasant distraction from the monotony of isolation, but Rowena suspected that she’d enjoy Abaddon’s friendship whether she were the only creature Rowena could talk to or not. There was no end of tales of battle and the customs of the mermaids, the knowledge Abaddon had of the deep was fascinating. Perhaps, Rowena wasn’t in a hurry to get off the island after all.


End file.
